


The Driver

by Fanofthebastillelife



Category: Bastille (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12952902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanofthebastillelife/pseuds/Fanofthebastillelife





	The Driver

They couldn't look any more normal if they tried. They blend in perfectly with the world that buzzes around them as they sit outside Greggs, sipping on take away cups of teas, talking quietly to each other. They may look normal, but that's exactly what they're not. They are masters of their art.

"So, I've heard you're a driver." The first man speaks to the second man without looking at him before he takes a drink. He needs a driver for his next mission, a new recruit if you will. If he proves good enough, the younger man might just be a perfect fit. He doesn't look like he will be, though.

"I am indeed. You heard correctly," the other man, slightly taller than the first, replies, wrapping long fingers around the paper cup. The first man glances at him, raising his eyebrows. "Why, you need me?"

"Well, put it this way. I don't come out here and meet random people for the fun of it." There's heavy sarcasm in his sentence, and an eye roll to finish. It's a bit of a chilly day in their small town, but not so chilly that they look strange drinking their drinks outside. "Yes, I have a mission and you're going to be part of it."

The second man chokes on his drink and his eyes open wide. "Well, thanks for the offer. What exactly is your mission which I am a key part of?"

A woman and a pram rattle pass, the cheap plastic of the pram creaking as it moves, and her heels clunk against the concrete path of the high street. She is oblivious to the plan going on inside the man's head, who sits just feet from her. Her child, so innocent and angelic, stares at the two men with wide, curious blue eyes. The first just smiles at the little one, before turning his attention back to the second.

"I think that's hardly any of your business, really. I'm paying you to drive, not to ask questions." The comment his harsh, but the second man has heard it all before. He rolls his eyes.

"I like to know the shit I'm getting myself into, thanks, before I accept any payment." He bites back, shaking his head. "So, tell me, then. What, who, and why am I driving for?"

The first man sighs, gripping his paper cup slightly tighter. "I have a little bit of business that I need to sort out. Do you have your own car?"

The driver internally groans. He hates using his own car. That means he has to change it again, and then he runs out of excuses for his family, or the insurance company.

The client notices his reaction and shakes his head, "You can just my car, it's not a big deal. It has blacked out windows on it, no plate, can't be traced." He gives him the brand of the car and Kyle nods, having driven one for his dad when he was about fifteen. "Will you be able to do that?"

"If you can give me the money,"

"Half a grand."

"You're having a laugh," the driver snorts, pulling a face of disbelief. "No, mate. More than that. It's way too low for me to risk my arse for your... Your fucking mission or whatever,"

The client rolls his eyes. He's worked with plenty of drivers in the past, all of whom demanded no less than at least £1,500 from him. But this driver, young and fresh, looks new to the scene. He was expecting him to be gullible to the money, but he is clearly mistaken.

"A grand."

"Higher."

"For fuck's sake, I'm not made of money!" The client feels like shouting. He's losing his patience with the younger boy now, and he glares at him. "What do you want? My fucking house?"

"At least seven hundred more. I'm here to pay my bills and make a profit, not carry on scraping the bottom of the barrel, Smith."

The client tenses up. Usually, it's only the police who will do that to you, name drop you in the middle of the sentence. He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the drowning sickness in his stomach. "H-how do you know my name?"

"I need to make sure everything is safe for me. I Google and Facebook everybody I work with. Pretty normal guy for a someone whose trying to get somebody to break the law with them, hey, Mister Daniel Smith?" The driver smirks at Dan, who still feels sick. A pigeon waddles across the walkway and picks at the crumbs of some pastry on the floor before flying off when a dog walker approaches.

"Don't do that to me, man. I thought you were a cop," Dan sighs, shaking his head. He glances to Kyle. "So, tell me your name."

"Kyle."

"Just Kyle?"

"Well, I presume that's all you need to know. When am I coming to yours then?"

 

 

They meet at a warehouse about an hour away from Kyle's place. It's run down and dirty, and the two men shuffle inside without a word. Behind the large, iron shutter, is a crappy old car. Well, it's not really crappy. It's your common everyday car, the one you see every day but pay no notice to. Dan wordlessly throws him the keys, and Kyle climbs in the driver's seat.

"What're you doing?" He calls to Dan, pulling the hood of his hoody up. He watches the man at the side of the car, turned away from him, fiddling with something in his hands.

"One minute," he says back, and there is a knock on the shutter. Kyle's heart goes into his stomach, but then he realises he could just say that he's working on Dan's car with him. "You alright mate, yeah, come on, he's here now. You ready? Okay, good. Let's go then."

"You didn't tell me there'd be a third man," Kyle tells Dan as he and the stranger get into the car. The man in the back looks shockingly similar to both men, and Kyle has to do a double take on him.

"I didn't tell you there wouldn't be." Dan bites back, rolling his eyes. Kyle sighs and puts the car into gear. "Go when you're ready."

"You gave him the money?" The man in the back asks. He's remained nameless, though Kyle is fairly certain he'll get it out of Dan later.

"Not yet. He'll get it tomorrow. All £1,700 of it."

"Damn."

"A man has to pay his damn bills guys," Kyle sighs, putting his foot on the accelerator.

 

 

"So who exactly is it you're killing?" The drive is going smoothly. They're about half an hour away from their destination, somewhere in the West of England, and still have about three-quarters of an hour to go. Kyle is tired, but he puts this down to the fact he had a nap before he came out, and naps never help anybody who is tired.

"Who said we're killing anybody?" The man in the back questions, having remained quiet most of the journey. "We never said we were killing anyone."

"No, but you have a mission where you need a getaway driver and have no other weapons besides from one gun. What bank are you going to rob, or building are you going to blow up with one gun?" Kyle looks in the rear-view mirror with a cocky look on his face, seamlessly changing gear.

"Fair enough."

There's silence for a moment.

"So nobodies going to tell me?"

"Look, after this, we'll never see each other again. You'll go your way, and we'll go ours. You'll get your money, and that's it. You don't need to know everything about us."

"Exactly. So you could tell me. Why would I snitch when I'm joining in? So you might as well tell me."

"My Uncle." The man in the back says coldly, breaking the conversation in half.

Kyle stumbles, "Y-your what?"

"My Uncle. It's complicated."

"I have a few minutes. About forty-three of them."

"Ugh. Fine. Okay. My Uncle was, like, the biggest bellend in the world. I mean, like, Satan on Earth. He abused us, he hit us, he fucked us all up for life. He played innocent when my parents were around me and my siblings and always told them we fought, which is why we ended up with bruises. It's all bullshit, and because of him, my sister committed. I can never forgive him for what he's done, so I'm going to end his life like he ended my sisters."

Kyle sits in silence.

"Well, I'm not asking any more questions."

"Leave the engine running," Dan tells Kyle as they pull up on a different street, connected to the street of the Uncle's house by an alleyway, providing easy access. "There's no CCTV, we checked earlier."

"Okay," Kyle says, gripping onto the steering wheel. He's done this once or twice before, but this is the first time he would drive two murderers away from their victims. Dan turns to walk away. "D-Dan,"

"What?" The client hisses, staring at Kyle.

"B-be careful."

Dan nods and smiles, and then pulls the hood of his hoody up to hide his hair. He told Kyle he would shave it all off when they get back so there is no proof it was him. His hair is the most iconic thing about him, Charlie told him, before saying he, too, would shave his head.

 

 

Every second that ticks past makes Kyle's heart jump. He feels so on edge, and every time he thinks, he wonders if they've put the bullet through his head yet. The gun has a silencer on it, so chances are, the man's body won't be found until somebody goes to visit him. Kyle hates that thought, the rotting corpse of somebody waiting to be found with a hole in their head. Then again, he also hates people who abuse kids.

His hands shake as he runs a hand over his beard. That will be going tonight. He's a lot less noticeable without his beard, and if that gets him off the suspect list, so be it.

Then footsteps thunder down the alleyway, and Kyle leans over to open the car door.

"Go, go, go," Dan whispers, and Kyle smoothly pulls the car off, as if nothing had actually happened.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I killed him!" The man in the back screams, putting his head in his hands, "Dan! I fucking killed him."

"Charlie, calm down. You knew what you were doing, you know he deserved it!" Dan tells him, trying to calm him down. "He fucking abused you, man. He had it coming to him."

"Dan we're going to get caught and sent to prison and-and-and," Charlie begins to sob, but Kyle just keeps on driving.

"You did well," Dan tells Kyle with a grin as they pull up outside Dan's house. They dropped Charlie off, who calmed down and slept the whole way back. "Wanna come in for drinks?"

Kyle nods and gets out of the car, stretching his legs for what feels like the first time in forever. "I didn't do anything, I only drove."

"Good enough," Dan walks up the path to the house. The sun is coming up over the horizon, and the sky is a dull pink, which both men glance at as Dan opens the door. "What do you want to drink? I have vodka, rum, gin, anything."

"Fucking anything at this point. I aided a murder, man." 

 


End file.
